Rick and Claire
by qtkelley
Summary: Rick gets shwifty in college broh! Claire meets the man of her dreams. (Rated M for language and drug use)


He watched the bowl cherry as he inhaled deeply, looking across the landscape of the party. As he felt a rushing buzz probe its way into his brain, he carefully put the bong down to pull out a large bag of cocaine, which he cut up quickly on the stained wooden coffee table and added into the bowl. He knew why he was invited to these things. He knew that he wasn't part of this crowd. Rick knew that the only reason he was even in the house was because he brought the drugs, and he really didn't have a problem with that. These parties were good for him; he'd show up, get high on his dad's cocaine, fuck a few people and get out before the police were called. It was a win win- Rick got fucked up and his father didn't get on his ass about helping him with his shitty projects.

Tonight's party was like every other. Rick had parked himself on the couch at the beginning of the night and had spent his time smoking and trying to put up with beginner drug users and their idiot questions. The only good thing about the whole operation was that Rick fucked people out of every dollar they had on them, charging not only to be at the party but for every hit of bud, coke or amphetamines he shelled out. Rick had made about $200 that night, not bad for a Thursday night and certainly worth his time. It was getting late, so Rick had started his own drug regimen, turning away the few stragglers that still wanted a hit at this hour. Rick picked up the bong, took a hit of the laced bud and allowed himself to relax back into the couch. Usually he would have a drunk idiot next to him trying to explain the benefits of joining whichever frat was hosting the party, but tonight he was alone, and took the opportunity to watch the people around him.

The house was in various stages of absolute destruction, as most frat houses were. The couch he was sitting on sagged incredibly even under Rick's skinny frame and had stains whose origin was entirely unknown. The walls were painted an ugly institutional cream color, with dark stain wood trimming the doors, ceiling, and windows. All the furniture looked as if it had been purchased at a shitty yard sale, with most of it missing one piece or another. All in all, the house was fucked. It reminded him of his own: splashed drinks on the walls, foundation crumbling, windows shattered and covered with duct tape and cardboard. Rick sat quietly in all of this, as people in various stages of drunkenness stumbled around trying to find a way out of the party. _"Hive minds…"_ he thought to himself, taking a sip from someone's half empty beer on the table. He loved to people watch: he liked to know what made people the way they were and to try to figure out why all they wanted to do was follow each other blindly.

Rick decided to get up to take a piss. Since things were coming to an end, he figured it would be safe to leave his bong, a few grams of bud and a gram of coke on the table. No one would dare to touch his shit, besides he didn't care. It wasn't like he paid for his drugs. He picked up the half finished beer and walked out to the hall. Stepping over a girl asleep on the floor, he went into the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door. The tiled floor was covered in vomit and a few needles lay on the floor. Two empty bottles of liquor sat on the counter near the sink and a full bottle of rum sat on the toilet tank. Rick picked up the rum and took a couple of swigs while he finished his piss. After he finished, he went over to the sink to wash his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, blond hair a total wreck as usual and brown eyes entirely dilated. "Oh, good I, look ok," he thought to himself, splashing water on himself and walking back out into the hallway.

As he walked into the living room, he noticed a girl on the couch sitting where he had been only moments before cutting up his coke into lines. "HEY! Hey wh-what the fuck? Wh-what the absolute fuck wo-woman? That's my fu-fuckin coke!" Rick raced over to the couch just as she came up from doing a line. Her big green doe eyes looked at him with fake innocence. "Oh, is it? I had no idea, Rick," she said sarcastically. He looked at her, a little floored by how absolutely gorgeous she was. "L-L-Look lady, I don't really care all that much, I mean a couple lines, like whatever. Just get outta here ok?" He paused. "Also how the fuck do y-you know me?" She continued to cut up lines, then pulled her honey colored hair up in a ponytail before she leaned over and inhaled the blow through a piece of rolled paper. "We're in the same AP class," she wiped away excess coke from under her nose. "You would know if you ever showed up." Rick glared at her and began packing up his stuff. "School isn't a place for smart people, L-Lady." "That's sounds funny, seeing as you're enrolled." She gave Rick a flirty glance, her eyelids halfway closed and the drugs hitting her hard.

She was the most beautiful woman Rick had ever seen. Her honey brown hair fell perfectly, framing her face. Green eyes peeked out from under her bangs and her lips were curled into a smart grin. But the best were her tits. Rick could not stop thinking about how fucking great it would be to- "Rick? maybe you could keep your eyes up here," she said, pointing to her face. Rick snapped out of his thoughts quickly. "Y-y-yeah lady whatever… Look just go on- just get outta here I don't even know you and and you're here- you're over here blowing my coke." She reached her hand out to him. "I'm Claire, it's nice to meet you (again) Rick." He stared at her hand, trying decide whether or not to blow her off. "I'm Rick. Nice good girl name M-M-miss Claire." Her tits WERE glorious, after all. "Look Claire, I'm fuckin- I'm gonna blow this joint. But I got a pound of coke back home and some great gin. You uhhh... You wanna… Fuckin Jesus..." Claire shot him a wink. "Rick? Come on, let's get out of here."

~:::~


End file.
